


Blasphemy

by levigate



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Bugs, Fisting, Mindfuck, Object Insertion, Other, Tentacles, going places no bug should go, i guess, its a big one, one bug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 07:16:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4426292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levigate/pseuds/levigate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruvik enjoys that he's the center of the Keeper's attentions, but having such a needy creation can be distracting. So he decides to give it a companion. Maybe this way he'll be able to actually get some work done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blasphemy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RuvikVictoriano](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuvikVictoriano/gifts).



> Not beta'd but I at least glanced over it. Tenses are all over the place and I don't care. If there's anything that really stands out that needs to be fixed or it's really distracting or if you're confused by what's going on let me know and I can rework it.

The Keeper didn’t often venture out of its usual areas. Certain places needed to be watched more carefully than others and it focused on those. But every now and then it would make rounds elsewhere. Without the narrow confines of its tunnels or hallways it felt almost blind. Sounds were lost to the open air and it suffered from some small form of agoraphobia as its sense of space was distorted. The almost-echolocation it used to get around didn’t work properly when there wasn’t anything but sky.

Being inside the warehouse was almost a relief. The ceiling was high up enough to be almost hazy in its vision, but at least it was there. A thick fog hung in the air, with the faint reek of chemicals. For those who relied on sight it obscured vision, and even the blind Keeper wasn’t unaffected. Its depth perception was off, sounds deadened and made still by the oppressive atmosphere. Its still better than being outside.

The building appeared to be empty as it slowly stalked between rows of mannequin parts. It flicked at the fingers of one poking out of the wire container. One by one it snaps them off. Despite being made of roughly the same material, the Keeper is far more resilient than they and enjoyed the little destruction.

It was about to leave when it felt something on the edge of its perceptions. A familiar presence, and it immediately abandoned its petty viciousness. He was near, and it always took every opportunity to seek him out. Any chance it has to be in his presence is eagerly taken, and more than once it’s been sent away because he doesn’t have time for it. But this time he’s sought out the Keeper and it cannot contain its excitement, racing to find him.

Ruvik let his lips curve into a smile at its thunderous approach. The Keeper wasn’t built to be subtle. Every step it took rattled the safe that served as a head and shook the ground. The plastic pieces of the mannequins clicked together as it stomped toward him. He was leaning against one of the bins, a large wooden crate next to him. A skittering sound could be heard from inside, but the Keeper had no care other than that Ruvik was here.

The Keeper didn’t move other than to track his movements with its head as Ruvik pushed off the wire bin and walked to meet it. His movements were languid, unhurried. One of his hands trailed along the hammer and up its arm, before trailing back down to the small of its back. Deft hands unhooked the large pin holding the apron together. Ruvik made a show of examining the bend of metal before stabbing the point into one of the mannequin heads. 

“Strip.” 

The command was a familiar one, and the Keeper was always eager to obey. There was a loud crack as it simply dropped its hammer, the impact forming the traceries of spiderwebs in the ground. The sack of trophies was next, thrown carelessly next to the hammer. Speed is favored over grace, and it ends up tearing its shirt in its efforts to undress quickly. 

Sometimes Ruvik liked to simply admire what he’s wrought and watch as the Keeper waged bloody war against any and all who wander within his world. What the Keeper lacked in finesse it more than made up for in sheer power. The scientist could appreciate capability, and his guardian was excellent at its job. Occasionally, Ruvik allowed himself to admire the Keeper on a more personal level. It craved his touch, his acknowledgement, and every so often Ruvik was inclined to grant it. While it was still trying to get its pants off Ruvik was already following the contours of its spine with his hands. It arched at his touch, momentarily forgetting what it was supposed to do. Ruvik’s hand remained pressed between its shoulder blades, distracting it thoroughly. It took three tries for it to finally manage to push its pants down, so focused was it on its master. It doesn’t bother to take them off fully, leaving them bunched at its ankles. 

“What are you waiting for?” he asked as he dragged his fingers down and between the swell of its buttocks. He circled the thin crack at the base of its torso wickedly, shoving in with blunt fingertips. He’s anything but gentle as he scissors in, forcefully prying it apart. A hot wetness met his questing digits and the Keeper makes a little rusty squeal of appreciation as he simply takes what he wants. He doesn’t bother with preparation as he slides all four fingers in up to the palm. 

He caressed its inner walls briefly, lightly scraping with his fingernails. There was a hint of something sharp, a little trick for anyone not Ruvik. He pressed against the ridge of teeth roughly until they withdrew, hiding behind a layer of muscle. He pulls out carelessly and comes to stand in front of the Keeper who is waiting impatiently, angling its hips forward for him. “Like this do you? It hasn’t been that long has it?”

Ruvik doesn’t expect an answer as he pulls its hole apart, digging into the soft flesh of its rim viciously. Each fingertip is a prick of pain for the Keeper but neither really cares. Whatever he wants is fine by his pet. His thumb slides in as well and he groans as the Keeper grips him tightly. It clenches around him and the hot press of muscle has Ruvik breathing heavily through his nose. Steadily he pushes and delves further inside. He takes his time, moving slowly only for his own comfort. Everything about the Keeper is powerful and though Ruvik can’t truly be hurt, that doesn’t mean the Keeper isn’t capable of crushing the intrusion.

It takes only a little effort until he’s swallowed up to the forearm. Lube was never something he required with the Keeper, it produced more than enough fluid to ease his way. Drops of thin red liquid runs down his arm, saturating his sleeve and soaking into his skin. Something inside brushed against his wrist and he latched on. The Keeper rolled its hips, wordlessly encouraging him to go deeper but Ruvik had other plans today. Instead he snatched one of the tentacles that hid within, pulling at it. His movements were indolent, tugging lightly before letting his hand slide to the tip, only to repeat the motion from the base of the limb. Gently he coaxed the tentacle out. That one was followed by several more, all eager for his attentions. Each was as thick as his arm and reached halfway up it, pulling at him and trying to pull him further inside. His hand and most of his forearm was soon coated in the Keeper’s fluids, thick reddish almost-liquid, like partially congealed blood. 

Ruvik gave a little snort of amusement at the Keeper’s eagerness when it thrusts forward, tentacles insistent and determined to keep him close. His hands dive down into the mess of tentacles. He hooks his fingers inside, spreading the Keeper wide. It makes a little rattle that isn’t really a protest. He kneels before his creature as he pulls it apart, peering up as copious amounts of fluid drip from its hole. There’s a puddle forming at its feet and soaking into its pants and if it isn’t careful it might slip. It smells like the morgue, rank decay hidden beneath the smell of formaldehyde. Ruvik breathes deeply, doesn’t care at all.

“Can you hold this for me?” he asks. The Keeper reaches down to do so, fingers bending and tentacles curling in on themselves to spread it wide for his examination. He runs his fingers along the rim before pressing in. 

“Did you miss me, Keeper? You must be so very lonely, to be so eager now,” he doesn’t wait for an answer and continues talking. The words are more to himself than anything. The Keeper was never lonely. In its opinion, no company was the best company, with the exception of Ruvik. “I can fix that. Give you a companion. Would you like that?”

The Keeper shakes its head, content with only Ruvik. He frowns and yanks viciously on one of the tentacles. It whines in pain but he doesn’t care, that’s the point. 

“Surely you don’t mean you’re going to reject a gift from me. Not after all the trouble I went to to procure it for you?” he whispers dangerously and the Keeper shakes its head frantically, realizing its mistake. If Ruvik wants it to have a companion then it will treasure it. Ruvik nods in approval. That’s better. His harsh tugging eases into a gentle fondling as it behaves itself. 

“The only problem is it’s very fragile. But you’re good at keeping things safe, aren’t you? You shouldn’t have a problem protecting this as well,” so intent is the Keeper on its master that it doesn’t notice the creeping arthropod at its feet. It’s focused more on Ruvik and his deceptively kind caresses. It feels a weight on its boot and something sticky on its leg and is instantly disgusted by what it finds there. Ruvik’s grip tightens in warning.

“This is Heresy. To be more accurate, one of its spawn. The original s far too large to accompany you,” he chuckles, enjoying the disgust he can feel radiating from his favorite toy. The little Heresy can only be considered small when measured against the gargantuan abomination that spawned it. The Keeper wants no part of this. One glance and it can tell that it isn’t one of the Haunted. This is a remnant of a subject who was so utterly out of sync with Ruvik that he went far enough out of his way not to turn that he hit monstrosity from the other side. Heresy, not Haunted. The difference is subtle since he’s now Ruvik’s creature, but it’s still there. The Keeper recoils slightly but Ruvik holds it firmly in place.

Ruvik’s grin doesn’t fade at the indecision he can feel from his Keeper. Soon enough it will remember that it doesn’t matter what it thinks it wants. He thinks about changing it, perhaps playing with its mind and guiding a tiny portion of its devotion towards the thing prodding at its entrance. Another moment's consideration and he abandons the idea for now. Perhaps later. That the Keeper was only against this because of what Heresy represented and not for any more rational reason was acceptable. Loyalty was to be rewarded, and while this isn’t really a reward, it isn’t a punishment either. Simply an excuse for Ruvik to entertain himself.

“You leave off on your duties far too often,” he begins. That’s not exactly true--even when it seeks him out it always makes sure it’s manifested another body to continue its work. This time is an exception, as he’s sought it out. Ruvik ignores its rattled protestations to continue, “and while entertaining, I don’t have the time to accommodate your insatiable inclinations. But I don’t want you to feel neglected. This is a suitable compromise, wouldn’t you agree?”

The Keeper doesn’t want to think about the sharp antenna scratching at its fluttering entrance. It wants to move its hands and close back up but its master has made clear that isn’t an option. The two rough tips of the myriapod run along the walls of its rim before stabbing inward, poking at the soft flesh inside. They're far larger than any insect in real life, but the Keeper is easily able to accommodate them. Together they’re no larger than its master’s arm, after all, and it didn’t have much problem fitting that inside. Still it tries to distract itself, focuses instead on Ruvik’s hands that have moved to its thigh. 

The Keeper takes the antennae stoically even as they sweep around inside, brushing against pulsing walls and deeming it safe enough for the creature to pull itself further. The head is accepted with equal grace but that quickly changes as it tries to force more and more of itself inside. Heresy’s underside is coated in a thick slime that leaves a trail up the Keeper’s leg, mixing with its own fluids and staining the pants still at its ankles. This easies the entrance somewhat, but doesn’t soften the scrape of that chitinous back. Little stiff fibers between the joints scratch and tear at the Keeper and it rearranges its hands and tentacles to stretch itself even wider. It’s never been pulled apart so, but also never been filled so either. Little prickles of not-quite pain and a pleasureable burn as the grub squeezes further. The Keeper can’t stop itself from swaying at the intrusion. Little movements, but it’s a start.

Ruvik watches as its composure slowly starts to break as it’s breached. Standing up like this with legs trapped by coarse material, it can’t quite spread its legs enough to comfortably accommodate the creature worming its way inside. Its body rocks slightly as it slowly draws in raspy breaths. Heresy isn’t a comfortable presence within, pushing useless organs aside to make more room for itself in the damp cavity. For once the behemoth isn’t certain where to put its tentacles. They splay out and curve along its thighs and while Ruvik appreciates the unobstructed view that won’t do. He pries one from the deathgrip it has around its leg and directs it to wrap around the the Heresy. After doing the same with another the Keeper gets the idea and wraps the remainder around the parasite. The way its hundred little legs brush against the thick limbs sparks something in the Keeper that has it clattering. Ruvik can see the strain in its legs, the way its fingers slip from holding it open. He takes pity on the creature and decides to help it out.

Despite how huge the Keeper is it only takes a soft push on its chest for Ruvik to send it sprawling on its back, the floor cracking and breaking as it drops. The abrupt movement startles Heresy, which burrows in several more inches. The Keeper’s legs bend and spread lewdly and it abandons holding its slit open to grip at its stomach. Strong fingers rub harshly at its torso, as though to massage out the pain. Its hands slide over each other in anguish and its hips roll. The Keeper lets out an inhuman groan of protest.

“Shh,” Ruvik comforts. He kneels between its legs, his hands replacing the Keeper’s in holding it open. “You’re doing so well. Already halfway, just a little more.” The little more is still over a foot. His pet isn’t certain it can do that, but Ruvik knows it can. He’ll make sure of it. He wants this thing inside and his will is absolute. He thumbs small circles against the nearest tentacles, and the tips of his fingers dig into the muscle around its hole. Watching Heresy being swallowed up by the Keeper’s gaping hole is utterly depraved and yet incredibly enticing. Ruvik is consumed in the exquisite combination of the anguish and desire flaring up from his pet. It is disgusted with itself at wanting this, but the satisfaction of knowing that it’s pleasing him sparks an even greater thrill, stirring it up even more. It’s a vicious cycle and Ruvik drowns in the delirium of the warring emotions.

The Keeper’s breathing levels out to a harsh rasp but it’s adjusting to this great intrusion. Even as it thinks that Ruvik mentally pushes Heresy, forcing a brisk advance of another seven or eight inches. Heresy startles and bites down and the Keeper screeches, a metallic scream like failing brakes. Its insides are tender, unlike the hard shell of its body. It squirms and kicks but that only makes it worse as Heresy bears down. Heresy is terrified, trying to get to safety. In contrast to its earlier cautious explorations it’s positively frantic, digging in deeper and deeper . Ruvik doesn’t move to assist either of them, far too fascinated with the sight as the tail end of Heresy enters the Keeper. The Keeper shakes in pain and no small amount of arousal and Ruvik covers his sneer at its base instincts with a smile. His Keeper has done very well so far, after all. He feels so incredibly powerful reducing his stalwart guardian, this wrathful creature that brought death to all who opposed him, to a mewling mess before him. This is exactly what he needed. 

Little wheezes resonate from the safe as it tries to push Heresy out from the outside, hands pulling at its skin as though to claw it out. 

“No, no, stop,” Ruvik says with a small laugh, grabbing at the frantic hands and pulling them away. He leans over the Keeper from between its legs. With the Heresy now inside, its tentacles wrap around Ruvik and it grinds against him. He isn’t moved by that, instead transfixed by the warp in the Keeper’s skin, the swell that showed the Heresy curled within. It’s obscene, transforming the Keeper’s normally toned stomach into something like a potbelly. He ignores the Keeper as it rubs against him, laying flat on the Keeper’s hard stomach to plant a slobbery kiss on the bump. Impulsively the kiss becomes a lick and he’s entranced by how he can feel it moving beneath his tongue. He thinks he can hear it skittering when he lays his good ear against skin. Just to feel the panicked writhing of the parasite inside Ruvik directs the Keepers hands on either side of the swell and forces it to push. The Keeper lets out a piercing wail at the prickling agony of the monstrous insect shifting its position.

Ruvik holds it there, reveling in the agony and simultaneous delight coursing through his Keeper. It’s struggling for breath it doesn’t need, high-pitched wheezes that sound like it's being strangled. Exquisite misery and fervent desire in a heady mixture that Ruvik could lose himself in. He won’t though, has no intention of that right now. Self-control has always been one of his strong suits and he easily extracts himself from the Keeper’s demanding grasp. 

“Let’s get you up and dressed. We can’t have you slacking,” the little flare of incredulity he feels from the Keeper is acknowledged only with a smile. It can’t believe he intends to leave it like this, still wanting and with this...thing...inside. The Keeper shakes its head, terribly upset and Ruvik reflects that maybe he’s spoiled it. This will be good for it, a small reminder that Ruvik’s will supersedes its own, no matter how much he indulges the thing. To make his point clear he starts pulling its pants up, batting at the tentacles that still clamor for attention. “Put those away now. If you want to play you have Heresy.”

Oh, now that’s an interesting reaction, resentment coiling in the Keeper, and Ruvik hasn’t had to deal with that in a very long while, thought he’d stamped it forever ago. He’ll have to nip this in the bud. The look on his face is murderous. He’s still in good humor, but he can’t let the Keeper know that. The heel of his foot lands just above its groin and sends Heresy scurrying, moving up to escape the pressure as he puts his full weight down. The Keeper can’t do anything more than rattle in distress, repeatedly jerking its head and smacking it down onto the cement. Ruvik is already working, snuffing out any resistance he finds and reworking the Keeper’s mind. Take away a little more of its intelligence, make it too stupid to do other than obey. He can’t keep it that way for too long--it needs to be observant so it can ferret out any threats before they become problems. That means it can’t be like the mindless Haunted, but for now he’ll bring it close. Enough to retain a sense of self but not much more than that, to reinforce the knowledge that it is nothing without him. He’ll bring it more in-line with his will, won’t leave enough of it to truly think, let alone be capable of something as complex as resentment. His lips curl into a cruel grin and he knows he’s won--not that it was ever in doubt--when it grabs the top of his foot and pushes it further, just so it can feel the panicked squirming of the monster within. It doesn’t protest further, sensitive tentacles retreating to wrap around the parasite, though one caresses his calf briefly to make its thanks clear.

“Don’t forget yourself,” Ruvik says pleasantly as he kneads its stomach with his toes. The simultaneous stimulation is enough for it to finally get off, giving in with a small cry. It knows its place and Ruvik steps off, reaching down to soothe the hurt with a brief pat, though it’s unnecessary. He took away a great deal of the creature, and it can’t tell the difference between pleasure or pain anymore, just happy to chase after any sensation that came its way. Heresy had been viewed as simply another hated intruder, but now the Keeper is so grateful for his gift. “Now let’s try this again. Do you need help getting dressed?”

For a moment it stares blankly at him, then looking past the still-moving swell of its stomach to its boots, then back at him. It has clothes on, is more needed? He merely nods, and starts tugging its pants past its knees. It watches him for a moment, before arching its hips up, clearly intending for him to do all the work. He doesn’t mind, but it’s obvious he’d taken more than he intended. It’s a heady feeling, knowing just what he’s capable of as he pulls the filthy pants up back into place. They’re soaked with its own juices and crusted over with the slime from the Heresy. He doesn’t bother cleaning them, or clearing the hardened trail from where the arthropod climbed up its leg. With a thought he cleans himself up from where the Keeper had ground against him earlier and the filth covering his arms but the Keeper doesn’t need that same courtesy. Judging by the ever growing dampness, it would only be a wasted effort.

“Up you get,” he says, holding out a hand for the Keeper to grab. It’s very concerned at the Heresy inside but Ruvik is still its first priority. He shouldn’t be able to lift the half-ton bulk that is the Keeper, but this is his world. 

The Keeper wobbles a little as it rises, Heresy sinking down to rest within its pelvic area and the motion causing it to jerk. Ruvik only smiles and picks up its shirt. With a thought the shirt is repaired and in place. He does the apron by hand though, removing the pin from the mannequin he’d stabbed it in earlier and putting it back in place at the Keeper’s back. The behemoth takes a faltering step towards its hammer and sack. It moves as a snails pace, not capable of waddling any faster with Heresy squirming inside. Ruvik only watches as it slowly squats down and picks them up, hooking them in place at its waist. Each movement is hesitant as it's forced to account for the new weight in its belly. A few more steps and it stumbles and falls to its knees with a keening cry. It pants roughly on all fours, making little thrusting movements as one hand presses against where Heresy lies as it rides out another orgasm. Ruvik makes a scoffing noise under his breath as he watches it circle its hips. This is ridiculous, but he can’t help but find it comical to see the mighty Keeper so desperate and distracted. He places a hand on its buttocks and pushes a finger against its slit through the fabric and the Keeper jerks with a loud clatter. Ruvik doesn’t stop with his teasing, merely inquires if there’s a reason the Keeper has stopped. 

“Don’t you have something you’re supposed to be doing? There are intruders and spies, and you’re my main line of defense. You can’t let yourself get distracted,” even as he says this he ramps up the Keeper’s senses, thoroughly abusing his control over the creature until it can hardly think with the little mind it has left. It crawls a few feet before managing to rise, whereupon it manages a few more steps before it has to lean against the bin for support. It leans over with its hands on its knees, and Ruvik closes his eyes and simply feels, briefly allowing himself to experience a portion of the world through the Keeper’s senses. He bites his lip at the overwhelming intensity, but does nothing to change it. 

The Keeper is determined, knows it has to protect him and through force of will takes another step and another. Its chest is heaving with strain, entire body tense but won’t let him down. Ruvik shakes his head in amusement as it slowly lumbers off. It isn’t long before it’s fallen again, upright on its knees, one hand on its stomach and the other down it’s pants and chasing after relief that only Ruvik can give, though it hasn’t realized that yet. Might not, with what he’s done. The thought amuses, but he can’t afford to keep his best defender out of action for too long. Ruvik has plans to set in motion and they won’t get far while the Keeper struggles to get more than ten feet without falling. He’ll go check on other parts of the system for a while, let the Keeper struggle for a little longer before coming back to fix it. He disappears, leaving his creation panting, dragging itself pathetically across the ground.


End file.
